


sugar cookies and bad friends

by asexuelf



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Alienage Life, Angst and Drama, City Elf Culture and Customs, Depression, Elf/Elf Relationship(s), Established Relationship, F/M, Female Friendship, Jealousy, Oppa Fenris Style, Past Abuse, Rare Pairings, difficult friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23125783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asexuelf/pseuds/asexuelf
Summary: Merrill is coping - with a new life in the city, with Marethari's abuse, with her deteriorating friendship with Hawke. Well, mostly.When a little help comes her way, things become much easier.
Relationships: Fenris/Merrill
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33





	sugar cookies and bad friends

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be 1k of ferrill cuddling which quickly became 3k of merrill being loved and supported..... what can i say? i love my girl
> 
> i hope you enjoy! 💖

Merrill is tired - _beyond tired,_ really - but she trudges on forward regardless with her chin held, if not high, then at a fairly optimistic level. After all, just because she's not the most popular girl in the Alienage doesn't mean her work isn't valuable. Everyone's work is just as necessary in the city as it was with the clan, including her own, and Merrill is determined to stay useful to those that require her aid.

Yes, she thinks determinedly, if Madame Vawn needs her fabrics delivered then they will be. It's Merrill's responsibility and she's taking it seriously. Very seriously! With the heavy spool of fabric held over her tiny shoulder, she must cut quite the odd figure, small and lumpy in the dim orange light of the streetlamp's glow, but Madame Vawn needs her and so she will have her, no matter the hour.

And, loath to admit it as she is, Merrill needs Madame Vawn's money. Now that Hawke isn't speaking to her, finding a good job (and thus putting food on the table) has been difficult. 

That cool reminder only serves to bring fresh sadness to prickle at her eyes. Oh, Hawke! Merrill hadn't meant to cause anyone harm… Sometimes she wonders if maybe Keeper Marethari is right; she hurts all those around her with her thoughtlessness, her arrogance, her flippant flights of fancy. She loses people - her clan, her people, her friends - and it's all her fault. All her fault.

At least she still has Varric and Isabela. And Fenris, of course.

But then, _having Fenris_ is rather the issue, isn't it?

It seems silly to fight over a boy (especially when that boy is a _man_ who's been treated like a trophy enough in this life already), but that doesn't change the fact that Hawke is clearly heartbroken. And all because of Merrill's cluelessness. Her selfishness.

Struggling beneath the weight, Merrill knocks on the thin wooden door in front of her. It rattles a bit in the frame, but the knock sounds cleanly enough that she only feels a small amount of anxiety about whether or not to do it again.

When Madame Vawn opens it tiredly, arms already held out for her delivery, her eyes go wide in shock. "Oh, Maker. Are you well, girl? The fabric couldn't be that heavy."

It's then that Merrill realizes she's crying. Hot tears are rolling down her face, hitting the ground at her feet as if calling out _sorr-y, sorr-y, sorr-y._ Leave it to her to go weeping in the street like a child...

Today has been too much. It's all been too much! She almost laughs in some tired hysteria - she likely would if the fabric weren't so heavy, crushing her shoulder and straining her lungs. Madame Vawn seems to notice and quickly takes the delivery, putting it down inside by the door.

"Thank you, Hahren." Hands now free, Merrill quickly rubs at her face as she assures the woman before her, "And don't worry, I'm fine. Just- Dust in my eye, you know. (Sniffle). Dusty streets here in Lowtown!"

"Of course," Madame Vawn responds, tucking a strand of dark, curling hair behind her pointed ear. Her brow is set in disbelief, but she nods anyways, the jewels dangling from her ears shaking with the movement. "Thank you, Merrill. Why don't you come in for a quick bite? My daughter just made cookies."

Her feet hurt. Her head hurts. An ache has started at the base of her neck all the way down to her rear, spreading until the entire small of her back feels ready to crumble. And that's not even mentioning the pain that's taken her chest since Fenris left at the beginning of the week. All she wants to get back home, bury her face into her pillow to weep, and wait for a certain brilliantly shining man to return from the Coast.

But… The smell of baked sugar comes out into the alley, chasing away the cool stench of sickly sweetness with a warmer, kinder one. The fire crackles in the hearth behind Madame Vawn, hidden behind her wide hips but still so comforting a sound.

Oh, it would be rude to say no now, wouldn't it? And they still haven't discussed pay. No doubt Fenris will be returning with his share of the earnings from Hawke, but she can hardly rely on him for everything. Out here in the city, a girl has to take care of herself.

"I'd love that, Madame Vawn." Merrill quietly enters the home, head tilted down shyly, as Madame Vawn steps aside. It's much better inside the Madame's home than it was out in the quickly darkening street. It smells so much less like dead mouse in here! "Thank you, Madame."

Madame Vawn's hand is gentle on her shoulder - a fleeting touch, but an appreciated one. "Of course, dear. And please, just Vawn will do. I'm no Madame these days."

"Oh, okay." 

Her face is warm as she steps into the room and perches quietly on one of Mada- one of Vawn's threadbare seats. Hopefully this is the right one. Merrill can never figure out which seat is the polite one to take - if there even exists such a rule. Folk in the city make things so complicated! But then, it was complicated with the clan, too, just in more… interpersonal ways. Even when she knows the rules, she gets them wrong.

Merrill tries very hard to smile pleasantly and ignore the sudden tightness of her throat.

Returning from the small kitchenette attached to the living space, Vawn places a wide plate of cookies on the table. They're sugar cookies, judging by the pale color, and look to still be gooey in the middle.

Without preamble, Merrill takes one, then another. They're delicious - so delicious, in fact, that when paired with Vawn's gentle, motherly presence, they become... dangerous. Like fire meeting _gaatlok_. As if the house is suddenly falling down around her, Merrill breaks, and after too many days of holding it in, finally weeps.

"Oh, there she is." And then Vawn is there, her soft arm around Merrill's shoulders. She's so warm, like Isabela's hugs always are. "There's a girl. Theeere's a girl, it's alright. Get it all out for me."

Merrill has been trying and trying to push it down, to focus on her eluvian or exploring the Fade instead, so having it all come up like so much bile is strange and unpleasant and so, so freeing. She's sobbing into her hands, dirty with long-chipped nail polish, but before she knows it, she's wrapped up tightly in Vawn's arms and despairing that Keeper Marethari never held her so lovingly - and how long it's been since she's been subject to one of Hawke's signature bear hugs.

Something strange happens at the thought of Hawke. She inhales sharply through her nose and puffs up with something like fire in her heart.

"Ugh!" she shouts, far too loud for the hour. Somehow, she hasn't a thought for the neighbors. "That woman!"

"Trouble with a lady, is it?"

Huffing, Merrill rests her weight against Vawn again, soaking in her warmth like a dandelion in the sun. "Not exactly. Well, she is a lady, but it's not really girl trouble. More like boy trouble, except it's only that girl causing it."

Vawn nods sagely. "I see. I've had my fair share of girls like that too."

"I just don't understand," Merrill sniffles. "I really thought she and Anders were happy. And then she and Isabela were happy. And then I thought maybe she and Varric were happy? Which is odd - I thought Varric didn't date human girls. But, then, when I caught feelings for a man in her company, a very handsome and kind man named Fenris, I'll have to introduce you sometime, well- She seemed supportive!"

At that, Vawn turns her head to the side, not unlike a curious cat. Fenris does the same thing - and his ears twitch too, as if moving in tandem with the gears of his mind. "She changed her opinion of him, then?"

Again, Merrill huffs, this time an unamused laugh. "As soon as I acted on these feelings, yes. Or maybe the issue is that the feelings were returned. Fenris had been working to change his thoughts on the Dalish and m- er, other things, and I was helping! I love helping. And, you know, when you spend a lot of time close to someone you have feelings for…"

"You made your move."

"Of course! And Fenris moved with me. It was all good fun and we talked after and I was so happy…" The memory fills Merrill with that fire again, but she quickly pats it down, snuffing the flame to the best of her ability. It's easier when she reaches out for a cookie to nibble on. "So, as you do, I go to my friend and I tell her. And she- she gets so angry! She started calling me rude names. Nothing about being Elvhen, but a whole lot of things about being loose. Loose! I've been with all of three people my entire life and even if I've been with thirty or three-hundred, she's no right to treat me so cruelly for it!"

"What does she care for the actions between consenting adults?"

"That's what I told her! Why would my sex life wound her so terribly?" The cookie grows ashy on Merrill's tongue. "And then she said she had feelings for Fenris as well. That I'd hurt her by acting on my feelings. But how was I to know? She never told me not to! I have no idea how you people handle these things…"

Head a comfortable weight on Merrill's sore shoulder, Vawn nods understandingly. "It isn't fair of her to have expected you to know what she wanted without telling you."

"Exactly. Thank you…" 

She swallows around a tight throat. She hasn't spoken about this with Fenris, of course not, but she mentioned it to Isabela - and though Isabela was sweet, she didn't really _get it._ She was content to tell Merrill to _leave them both behind, Kitten, or just be glad you won,_ but that wasn't much helpful. And anyways, Merrill is largely used to being the one on trial. What disturbs her the most is how much Hawke has treated Fenris like an object in this.

"This man I'm with now, the handsome one…" She looks to Vawn, who nods for her to continue. "Well, I can't share it all, but he's Tevinter. He was a slave. And, well, maybe I'm just being sensitive about it, but hearing Marian talk about him like he's something we can squabble over instead of a person we can talk to about it is… Really making me upset."

At that, Vawn sits straight up, looking appropriately scandalized. "I don't think you're being too sensitive at all! That's likely why he chose you, you being mindful and compassionate about his past that way."

"I certainly try to be. But Marian can be… Well, I love her for it as much as I don't, but she's kind of 'nail, meet hammer'. It solves problems as often as it creates them, but it can also make her a bit of a difficult friend." After all, this is hardly the first argument she's had with Hawke. The woman can be infuriating sometimes.

The old loveseat creaks beneath her as Vawn leans back against the headrest. "I know people like that. I've been that person too many a time. It's how I became a Madame, actually."

Merrill gasps behind her hand. "Oh, that's a much more interesting tale than the one I'm sharing!"

Laughter fills the room, as warm as the still-crackling fire. "Well, you've got me hooked! Maybe next time, I'll share my story, just to keep it even, eh?"

"I'd like that." She would. It's been a while since she made a new friend. Too soon since she lost one. Her smile falls and her eyes find the carpet, a dingy green thing that's in need of some care. There are crumbs - cookie crumbs she put there - that make her sigh to look at. "Should I talk to Marian? I feel like I'm always the one carrying the weight of these things… I want Marian to do that this time, but I'm not sure she will."

Vawn hums thoughtfully. She gazes into the fire, her brow drawn, the light reflecting off her dark eyes. "Maybe," she answers somewhat unhelpfully. "I wish I could tell you the right answer, dear, but I'm afraid you may have to decide this one on your own. No matter what you do… Don't sell yourself short. Even if you invite her to stand with you, stand your ground."

"That's…" She blinks widely, then smiles. "Good advice. Thank you."

"Of course. I'm not a Madame anymore, but I'm still a mother." Although she can hear her smiling, Merrill still looks away, her face warm and heart too full for comfort. "Have another cookie?"

Merrill's eyes find the dark, star-spotted sky through the high windows. "I wanted to be home in case Fenris came around… but it looks like I can stay a while longer."

The smile on Vawn's face, as round and warm as the sun, made brilliant in her joy, was worth it.

*

The night passed Fenris-less, as did the day, before he finally turned up in the evening, looking haggard and ready to keel over.

Merrill had happily walked him to her room, a skip in her step which had been missing for too long, and helped him wash up and get ready for bed.

It's always lovely, lying next to him, especially when he's lazy-boned and smelling of soap, but with the full moons' and Merrill's home's open windows, it's even lovelier.

Fenris looks dangerous in the moonlight - and radiant and warm and safe. His narrowed eyes reflect the dim light falling through the windows and his mouth shines a little from having been wet by both their tongues. In the dim light of Merrill's bedroom, Fenris' tawny skin seems darker, his markings glowing pale in contrast, those three dots peeking out through his white fringe.

"I missed you," Merrill says. It's a bit late to say it now, with a meal and a bath in between, but here she is.

He looks at her so intensely, as he always does. His eyes are soft and unyielding, like his limbs. Like his heart. "As I did you. I prefer sharing a tent with you over the abomination."

Merril clicks her tongue, amused. "Well, that's not much of a compliment! You'd share a tent with a wild raccoon if it meant being away from Anders."

"That may be true," And then that magical thing happens; Fenris laughs, low and honest in his chest. Oh, but maybe she shouldn't call it magical. He might not like it. "Still, I prefer you. Over Anders or a wild raccoon."

"Well, I suppose I can't complain too much if I'm in first place, even if the odds seem a _little_ skewed in my favor…"

Still smiling, crooked and a little teasing, he leans forward to kiss the flat line of her nose. It leaves her blushing, unable to fight her own too-cheeky grin. "I love it when you do that… I want to show the whole world how sweet Grumpy Fenris secretly is!"

"Secretly?" He leans up on his elbow, round cheek in his palm. The sight of his flexing arm is a little hard to ignore. "I make my care for you no secret. I- Ahem. Spoke of you extensively during the trip. Varric wanted to hear everything, he said, though I believe Hawke and the abomination found it a bit…"

"Overwhelming? Inconsiderable? Disgusting?" If her tone grows hard, she blames the still-present ache in her shoulders. She knows what people think of her, what even her own people think of her - why would she grow angry about it? Didn't she vent her frustrations enough last night, anyhow?

Fenris kisses her then, as if sensing her anger, his lips pressed soundly and firmly against hers. "I was going to say 'annoying'. Those things may be true as well. Which is odd to me; was Hawke not only a short time ago your friend?"

She knows what people think of her. She knows what Marian thinks of her, after the awful things she said. "I care very much for Hawke. I'd still say I'm her friend. Whether she is mine is another story altogether."

"Oh?" Green eyes going wide, Fenris blinks, his voice suddenly a little hurt. "You're… fighting? Does she disapprove of me?"

"Oh, Fenris! No, no… It's the opposite, really. She, erm, approves of you too greatly."

"I see." It doesn't sound like he does. Now his brows come together cutely, one slightly raised. "Then what is it you're fighting over?"

"Over you, apparently." She huffs. Oh, Creators, she really didn't want to get angry about this, not again, but it's coming up like lunch on a small boat. "It's stupid. You're a man, not some- some toy to tug between us like bickering children! She's jealous and she's taking it out on me. Hopefully not on you."

As Merrill melts, her anger fading, so does Fenris. He leans in close again, his hand warm (and lyrium burning hot) against her hip. His mouth is as soft against hers as ever. Maybe, _maybe,_ Hawke is right to be so jealous. That Merrill can have this and no one else is surely some tragedy, even in the wake of such gentle touch.

When Fenris pulls away, Merrill's eyes remain closed. She hadn't even realized she closed them. "Hawke was a bit... _cold_ while we worked. It's nothing I cannot handle," he murmurs, breath blowing softly against her face. "I wish only she were kinder to you."

"It's funny." Her eyes sting. She does not open them. "I wonder sometimes if there's some natural order at work somehow, and only so many people can love me _or even like me_ at once. For those few that care, there are several hundred who feel quite the opposite."

"Merrill…"

She sniffs, suddenly miserable. Her lip wobbles. "I gained your friendship and lost what little I'd gained with Anders. Now, I gain your love… And I lose one of the greatest friends of my life. Oh, lethalin... Am I broken somehow? Is this my fault?"

Fenris is quiet, but she can't tell if the silence is shocked, repulsed, or contemplative. She doesn't open her eyes to find out, not even when Fenris finally says, "No. It never could be. Those choices are their own and do not reflect on you." He kisses the uncertain line of her mouth. "I will simply have to love you with the veracity of several hundred lovers. Or several hundred friends. To make up for those too cowardly or foolish to do it themselves."

"Oh," she breathes. 

She leans into Fenris' arms - and he must be honest, must be true, because he doesn't complain about the pressure against his markings or the grime she's accumulated since he's gone sticking her skin to his. She was so focused on taking care of Fenris' bath, she forgot about her own. And small wonder, given she's fallen out of habit. 

It's been hard to do even simple acts like bathing and rubbing plaque from her teeth, she's been so tired. So horribly exhausted. 

He holds her close, his arms strong around her, and she breathes again, " _Oh._ " It's not a cure, but Fenris' touch makes for a decent treatment. Already, she feels more rested.

She can hear his smirk. "I mirror your sentiment. After everything, _amata…_ That you can forgive me for the way I treated you, that you helped me get here… I will not squander this."

"I sure hope not." 

And so suddenly does the Fade take her, held contentedly in Fenris' arms, that she doesn't even realize she's begun to Dream.

*

(When she wakes, Fenris helps her to bathe, helps her to rub the plaque from her teeth, helps her to eat. When she wakes, Fenris holds her and says _I still love you as I did yesterday._ _We all do._ She believes him.)

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! 💖


End file.
